


In the Eyes of the Beholder

by Drag0nst0rm



Series: Feanorian Fun Bingo [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: Sometimes a work's hardest critic is the creator themselves.





	In the Eyes of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> For my square, "hold infinity in the palm of your hand."

Her first thought is that her husband has somehow managed to call the stars down from the heavens and trap them in a little glass ball.

Which is, on second thought, probably ridiculous. If he had done that, someone would have come to their door to complain by now.

But holding the little ball in her hand, Nerdanel thinks her reaction is really quite understandable, all things considered. Little points of light glimmer in its depths, shining forth from pitch darkness. They glimmer and reveal themselves as she turns it, no angle showing quite the same thing twice. It’s like holding a little piece of the night sky’s infinity in her hands.

Feanor, naturally, is glaring at it like it’s a ball of clay that he’s spent hours molding yet whose result is so disappointing he might as well just smash it flat.

Although that’s really more her area than his, and possibly she’s letting her own creative frustrations bleed over into his.

“It didn’t work like I’d hoped,” he admits. “I was going to fill the whole thing with light, but it didn’t quite work, so I started trying to get the points of light to at least make some kind of pattern, and, well.” He threw up his hands. “You see the result.”

She tears her eyes away from it and looks at him dryly. “Yes. If only all failures were as terrible as this one.”

He blinks at her. “You like it?”

“Of course I like it,” she tells him in exasperation. “I love it, in fact. I doubt very much you’ll find anyone who _doesn’t._ It’s beautiful.”

He looks at it again with new eyes. “I . . . suppose it is. Even if it’s not quite what I was aiming for.” He looks up at her. “Speaking of beauty - “

“Oh, no.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “You used up your daily ration of flattery at breakfast this morning.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

“You are a ridiculous man,” she informs him. “A ridiculous man who has created a very beautiful thing.” She blinks. “A beautiful thing that has just given me an idea for my own project. Can I borrow this?”

“Of course. As long as you promise not to smash the result before I can see it this time.”

“It was bad,” she dismisses.

“It was yours,” he corrects. “Which means I very much doubt it.”

“Ridiculous man,” she tells him again fondly, but she gives him a quick kiss before hurrying to work on her idea before it slips away, a little piece of infinity still in her hand.


End file.
